Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Three days later Josie sat in her car outside Houston’s condo and dialed Sara on her cell phone.
“I can’t go through with this. He’s not going to appreciate my just showing up on his front step when he’s recovering.”
“Josie, you were the last woman to sleep with him. It would be rude if you didn’t check up on him. He got bit by a shark, for heaven’s sake.”
“I could just send a card.” Not that Hallmark made a Get well soon from your shark bite, signed Your one-night stand co-worker card.
“You can’t send a card!” Sara sounded horrified. “That’s tacky.”
Josie was feeling pretty tacky anyway. “Fine. But he’s going to tell me to go away.”
“So you either go away, or you stay and make him wish his parts were all functional.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” And she knew all his parts, save his hand, were very functional, but that didn’t mean she should do anything about it.
“He has it bad for you. You have it bad for him.”
“And?” There had to be more wisdom forthcoming.
“So, you can give up, let him blow you off, or you can fight for him. Make him want more with you.”
Oh, because that was so simple. “He doesn’t want more with me.” More sex, more talking, more dates, more anything.
Except under the influence of diamorphine he had said that if he did, it would be with her ...
“It’s worth a try.”
Josie turned the air conditioning up higher, aiming it at her armpits, and pondered that.
Maybe Sara was right and it was worth a try.
Everyone knew that on drugs or under the influence of alcohol people were given to bouts of confession and soul-searching honesty, which would mean Houston had probably meant what he had said.
So why shouldn’t she try to catch Houston’s interest?
At the very least, she wanted back in his bed again. Or in his bed for the first time, since they hadn’t actually made it to the bedroom on Saturday.
It was like med school. No one had expected her to be a doctor, except for her dad, but she had made the decision and she’d stuck with it, and it had worked. She loved caring for patients.
She wanted Houston. If only for an affair, so be it. She was a big girl, in several ways, and she could walk away when it was over, with enough material to fuel hot dreams for the next twenty years or so.
He had said if he could get close to anyone, it would be her. Well, she’d show him close.
Bending over, Josie blotted her nose on her shirt to dull any shine that might be hanging around, and ran a finger through her choppy hair. Nervous about dropping by unannounced, she had gone to the mall and bought a denim skirt in an attempt to look something other than scruffy.
It now occurred to her it would serve her new purpose even better, since he had said he wanted to see her in a skirt. He had suggested no panties, and barely covering her ass as well, but one out of three wasn’t bad.
The T-shirt she was wearing was a little on the tight side, too, and she decided maybe it would be therapeutic for him. Aid his recovery, get the old irons back in the fire.
The news from Houston’s surgery had been as expected.
Both the FDP and FDS tendons to the index finger had been cut, and the FPL to the thumb, as well as the branches of the median nerve.
Dr. Williams had retrieved the tendons from the forearm, where they had snapped back, and reattached them.
He had then used a micro scope to sew the nerves back together.
So really, this wasn’t all about her. She was being a friend, that’s all. Houston needed a distraction, and if that involved oral sex, who was she to say no?
As she got out of the car and headed up his walk, she tried to imagine what he was going through and couldn’t. If she were to lose function in her hand, the medical field wouldn’t exactly mourn the loss. Houston was different. He was a brilliant surgeon, and loved it.
He had to be feeling frustrated, angry, scared. In pain.
But helping patients in recovery was one of her specialties, something she excelled at and enjoyed. She could help Houston recover, take care of him, be a friend. Give him an orgasm.
Her hand hit the doorbell hard. If he would let her.
A woman in her fifties, tall and trim, answered the door. She gave a friendly smile. “Can I help you?”
This she hadn’t counted on. Josie hadn’t stopped to think—big surprise—that he couldn’t possibly be alone, having just left the hospital the day before.
“Hi,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m Josie Adkins, a, uh, friend—colleague—of Houston’s. I just wanted to see how he’s doing.”
The door swung wider and the polite interest turned to genuine pleasure. “Come in, come in. It’s so nice to meet you, Josie. I’m Francesca Hayes, Houston’s mother.”
His mother? This was such a bad idea.
“Houston’s in the living room, watching TV, and I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”
Josie could argue that, but she just nodded.
Houston’s mother had a faint trace of an Italian accent and a welcoming smile. She leaned forward and whispered, “He doesn’t do so well with being injured, you know, and he’s growling like a bear.”
Josie could well imagine Houston had no patience for being dependent on others. She stepped into the condo and started down the hallway after his mother, hoping she knew what she was doing.
“Shit.”
They both heard Houston swear and the leather sofa squeak as he moved around.
Josie froze, a little unnerved, but his mother made a clicking sound with her teeth and called, “What’s the matter?”
“I dropped the fucking remote and I can’t pick it back up.” Oh, yeah. Bear was an understatement.
Francesca glanced back at her and gave a shrug of apology. “Houston, watch your mouth! You have company.”
“Dennis has heard me swear before.”
Josie stopped at the end of the hall and peered around his mother.
Houston was on the couch, sitting up sideways, legs out straight in front of him.
The wound on his leg was dressed, and his right hand was fully wrapped and splinted.
He was wearing loose navy and green boxer shorts and a white T-shirt.
Her mouth went dry. He looked so delicious, so masculine, so pissed, as he leaned over the side of the couch and tried to retrieve the remote with his left hand, balancing precariously.
“It’s not Dennis, it’s your cute little friend Josie.”
Josie cringed at the word “little.”
Houston’s head snapped up.
What was in those pale eyes besides surprise? Pleasure, impatience, curiosity? She couldn’t tell. He was unreadable again, his face revealing nothing more than if he’d been wearing a surgical mask.
“Dr. Adkins,” he said. “What a surprise.”
His tone infuriated her, anger ripping through her without warning. They weren’t at the hospital. She had slept with him two feet from where he was sitting, right by that very coffee table only four days earlier and she’d sewn his chewed up leg back together. He could call her Josie.
The retort on her lips was swallowed, mindful of his mother standing there watching them both.
“I wanted to see how you’re doing.” She smiled brightly. “I thought maybe you could use some help from a friend.”
Before Houston could even respond, his mother touched her arm.
“That’s wonderful, what a sweet offer! Are you busy right now, cara?
I want to run to the store, since Houston doesn’t have a thing without mold in his refrigerator.
But I don’t want to leave him alone, you know.
Would you mind staying with him for an hour? ”
Houston looked belligerent, revealing his feelings on being left alone with her. “Mom, I don’t need a babysitter. You can go to the store whenever you want.”
Said the man who couldn’t even pick up the remote. She’d love to see him trying to fix something to eat, or walk to the bathroom without falling on his face.
“Or just order stuff,” he added.
“And let some stranger pick out my produce? God forbid.”
“I’d love to stay, Mrs. Hayes. Take your time.” Josie went around the coffee table and picked up the remote. She set it by Houston’s left hand, brushing her arm against his, pausing to smile at him.
Eyes narrowed, he watched her. “Thank you.”
His mother was already heading for the door, scooping up her purse. “Oh, thank you so much, Josie. I’m sure Houston will appreciate having someone to talk to besides his old mother.”
“My pleasure,” she said, as the front door opened and shut. Josie couldn’t help but quirk her lips a little as she perched carefully on the coffee table. “Your mom seems nice.”
His expression softened just a little. “She’s a hell of a lady.” Then he rolled his eyes. “But she’s driving me nuts.”
Like Josie imagined she was right now. “So, can I get you anything? A drink? Coffee? Tea?” Me.
If it had been anyone else, she would have questioned him about his injury, inquired how he was feeling, expressed her sympathy. Instinctively, she felt all of those would irritate Houston. So she strove to be cheerful and matter-of-fact.
Normally impeccable, his black hair looked like he’d struggled to comb it with his left hand and given up, and his right hand was resting protectively on his waist.
He groaned. “Oh, God, don’t you start mothering me too.”
Josie glanced again at him, only lower this time, running her eyes across his rigid thighs as she licked her lips. “Mothering you wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
He caught the innuendo, as she’d known he would. The sound of his breathing changed. “Oh, really? What did you have in mind?”
She didn’t answer him directly, but leaned back a little, resting her arms on the table. “You know, you’re going to be on medical leave for at least a week or two.”
His jaw twitched. “I’m well aware of that.”
“So there’s no one to notice any tension between us.”
Just a lift of his eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”
Here it came. She forced the words past her lips, heeding the need, the rolling, sliding, wet desire flowing between her thighs like rushing lava.
“That we don’t have to stop at one night. That we can have a string of one-nights together.” Josie swallowed hard. “Until one of us says enough.”